


Pilot

by scarletjedi



Category: Starsky & Hutch, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Buddy Cop AU, First Time, Fusion, M/M, crossover?, gigolas week 2! The Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2705240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletjedi/pseuds/scarletjedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Literally, Gimli and Legolas are Starsky and Hutch. Literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pilot

**Author's Note:**

> I said it in the tags. This is mostly a word-for word transcript of the pilot episode of Starsky and Hutch. Because I have lost all control of my life. 
> 
> Unbetad.

The Cherry Red Torino purred as it pulled away from the light, turning smoothly down a side street to park at the back entrance to Frankie’s gym. Gimli Gloinul turned off the car and hopped out, taking the metal stairs two at a time to reach the back door. He swung the door open and held the paper back up before him like a prize.

Down on the main floor, his partner, Legolas Greenleaf, was working over the heavy bag. Even sweating and pink with exertion, the elf looked good, dressed matching green sweatshirt and athletic shorts. Gimli looked down at his jeans and patterned cardigan. He didn’t have Legolas’s brand of pretty, but then again he was a dwarf. He had his own brand of _je ne sais quoi._

Gimli watched the way Legolas moved for a minute, caught, as always, on the fluidity and grace that translated to such deady precision on the streets, and then held his arms wide. “ _Bunmel!_ ” he called out, and dug into his bag for his prize: an oversized cheese Danish, the kind with the glaze so thick it looked like mid-winter frost.

“You’re late,” Legolas called over his shoulder, his pace never slowing. His hair was pulled back in a messy braid, and it swung with every motion. It was hypnotizing.

Gimli leaned against the stand for the speedbag. “Pardon,” he said to the guy working said bag and stopped the bag with his hand. The guy gave Gimli a dirty look, (if it was because he had food on the gym floor, or because he was a dwarf, Gimli did not know, but he glared either way until the man stopped), and Gimli turned back to Legolas's back. “You know, coming down here to watch you sweat is not the high point of my day.” He looked back at the speedbag guy, letting go of the pole. “Go on,” he said, and the man reluctantly started again. Gimli stepped toward Legolas. “I got coffee and a Danish. You want some?”

“Have I ever?” Legolas asked. He twisted sideways on the bag to keep Gimli in sight. He grinned out of half his mouth.

“No, but I keep hoping,” Gimli said and took a large bite. He did, really. Legolas had been dangerously uptight when they had first met, and in the years that they’ve been partners, he had lost much of his elven reserve. He grinned, he laughed, he moaned and complained. He had even bent his strict diet on occasion to enjoy a cheeseburger or ice cream, and the sounds he made on such occasions were positively indeceent. Gimli usually had more luck with fruit-flavored sweets, as Legolas had a severe sweet tooth, but one day he would get Legolas to eat the damn Danish.

It didn’t take long for Legolas to finish his routine and hit the showers. It was getting harder and harder to let Legolas go, to let him walk away without knowing how much Gimli ached for him, and it was only the sheer depth of love that Gimli felt that gave him the strength; however much love Gimli felt, if friendship was all Legolas had for him, then that's all Gimli would be, for the rest of their lives. 

Gimli sat on the bench in the locker room and decidedly did not think about the way Legolas looked soaking wet, water running in hot rivlets over his naked skin. To prove it, he finished his Danish in large bites, washing it down with sweet, hot coffee. He licked his fingers, tongue chasing that glaze.

“You shouldn’t drink that crap.” Frankie said, coming by and grabbing towels. “It’ll rot your guts away.

Gimli rolled his eyes. “ _Amad_ , I just met a doctor,” he snarked, mouth full, to Frankie’s back. “I think he loves me.”

“Funny, very funny,” Frankie said, pushing the towel bin away. “You’re a real comedian, right?”

Gimli drained his coffee cup and stood. “No lad, not a comedian.” He put the cup into his paper bag and stuffed them both in the towel bin. “Try again.” He dug into his pocket for the right change for a candy bar. “Frankie, aren’t you ever curious about what Legolas and I do for a living?”

Frankie slammed Gimli’s bag against his chest. “I got no questions,” he said.

“Keeping your head in the sand, aye?” Gimli asked. Legolas walked up to them, dressed only in a towel, dry but still damp around the edges. His blond hair was dark with water, and hung in waves around his head. Gimli wasn’t looking. He was buying a candy bar.

“Better my head in the sand than my ass in a sling,” Frankie said, gathering more towels. “You guys know what you’re doing. That’s good enough for me.” He turned and left, brushing past Legolas as he went.

“Yes, Frankie. We know what we are doing,” Legolas said. He grinned at Gimli, smile bright and teasing. “I will be damned if I know why.” He bumped the back of his hand against Gimli’s shoulder and walked to his locker. Gimli took a bite of his Snickers.

*

Even in street clothes, Legolas was supernaturally beautiful. There was only so much worn corduroy bellbottoms and a varsity jacket could hide, after all. He led the way out of Frankie’s, laughing about some joke Gimli wasn’t in on.

“Whose car?” Gimli asked.

“Mine.” Legolas said, jumping off the third to last step, the show off.

“Why yours?” Gimli asked, jogging down the steps. He looked longingly at the Torino, knowing they’d be taking Arod instead.

Legolas ran his hand along the Torino’s hood. He may complain about Gimli’s baby, but the elf knew how to appreciate beauty. “Because the suspension in this thing makes it ride like a rock in a washer,” he said, and headed past the Torino to his own jalopy.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Gimli demanded, following Legolas to Arod. “My baby’s a pinnacle of Dwarvish engineering!” He gestured to Arod; the car was twenty years old, at least, and painted an uneven beige color. It stalled as much as it ran, and when the weather turned cold the engine thumped for no reason. Gimli had once spent six months climbing in the window because the door lock broke before Legolas had gotten it fixed. Still, Legolas loved that car, enough to name it anyway. “I’m ashamed to be seen in that car,” Gimli continued, playing out an old script. “It’ll ruin my reputation.” Legolas just laughed at him, unlocking the doors. Gimli rolled his eyes. “Why won’t you at least get it washed?”

“Get in, get in!” Legolas called, and Gimli did, settling into the passenger seat with the ease of long practice. 

“Alright, let’s check,” Legolas said, pulling down a small clip board. “Shells?”

Gimli opened the glove box and pulled out two boxes of bullets. “Shells.”

“Your Baretta.”

“My Baretta,” Gimli said, shifting in his seat and feeling where it was pressed against him. “You’re .38?”

“My .38,” Legolas confirmed. “Flares?”

Gimli pulled them from the box. “Six flares.”

“Tear gas grenades?”

“Tear gas grenades:" Gimli said, counting, "one, two, three, four.”

“Shotgun?”

“Shotgun,” Gimli checked. “Locked and loaded.”

“Radios?”

“Two radios,” Gimli held them up. “With fresh batteries,” he sang. He held one out to Legolas. “’salright?”

“’Salright,” Legolas said into the radio. Gimli put them back in the glovebox. “And, flashlight.”

“One flashlight,” Gimli said.

“Book,” Legolas said, and put the clipboard away.

“And the book,” Gimli confirmed, and picked up the black leather-bound journal, flipping it open. It was filled with notes and pictures, profiles and information; the culmination of months of work.

“Let us get out of here,” Legolas said, and as he pulled away, Gimli grabbed the car radio.

“Zebra Three here,” he said.

_“Go ahead, Zebra Three,”_ the tinny voice came over the radio.

“Show us out and about at sixteen hundred hours,” Gimli said.

_“Ten-four, Zebra Three,”_ dispatch said, and Gimli hung up the radio.

They drove in silence for a moment, letting the streets with their dealers and hookers and pimps and petty crooks, all shiny in the sunlight, pass them by. “So, how did you fare with Cindy last night?” Legolas asked. Gimli could never read him when Legolas asked about his love life, and now was no different.

“Acceptable, acceptable,” Gimli said. It was better than the truth, that even though they had a wonderful dinner and some of the best dancing recently, when push came to shove he couldn’t cut it. He couldn’t stop thinking about Legolas, and he wasn’t about to give it to Cindy if he was thinking of someone else. He thought he’d made good excuses, but Cindy had known something was up. He doubted he’d see her again. Really, he didn't mind. They didn't last long. They never did. “You still seeing whats-her-name?” Tammy. Her name was Tammy and she was a Virgo, and Gimli did not like her.

“Aye,” Legolas said, too quickly, and Gimli had to hide a grin. It was Gimli's word, adopted into Legolas's speech at some point over their partnership. To see even that small an effect made Gimli's heart sing: These women might have a piece of Legolas that Gimli wanted, but the'd never change his words. “Still seeing whats-her-name. Took her to the what-cha-ma-call-it.” He looked sidelong at Gimli. “Gave her my thing-a-ma-jig.”

Gimli laughed, relieved and a bit shocked. Bye bye Tammy, though Legolas didn't seem too upset. “Didn’t know it was that serious,” he said, and unwrapped his candybar.

“It is not,” Legolas said, more serious than the moment needed, and it was just so Legolas that Gimli kept smiling. “But that might be,” Legolas said, all humor gone from his voice as he slowed the car to a stop.

“Hmm?” Gimli looked over Legolas to see what he saw. “Oh, that’s a familiar face,” he said. On the corner was a man, squirrely looking and sallow, walking with more confidence than a two-bit crook like him should.

“Gollum,” Legolas said. “I thought he was in the junk, one to five.”

“Gollum,” Gimli said, flipping though the book. “Gollum, Gollum, Gollum.” At last he found the page with Gollum’s mug shot and an abbreviated rap sheet—including the date of his parole. “'Was' is the word,” he said. “Paroled two months ago.

Legolas nodded, then turned to follow Gollum as he walked down the street. Gimli pulled his knit cap down over one eye as they drove past him, as if that would be enough to hide the bright red of his hair or the fullness of his beard, and hopped out of the car before Legolas had completely stopped.

Together, they followed him down the block as he found his mark: a rather obvious tourist, wide eyed with a large camera hanging from his neck. As they watched, Gollum reached into the tourist’s pocket and relieved him of his wallet.

“Put that in your pocket, you pull out a stump,” Gimli said, coming up close behind Gollum. Gollum froze.

“What are you doing around here, precious?” Gollum asked.

Legolas raised an eyebrow. “We work here, precious,” he said. “Only our work is legal. Now, why don’t you give that nice man back his wallet?” He leaned in real close to Gollum, and Gimli leaned back to watch. Unlike the high elves that graced the social pages and silver screens, Legolas was from woodland stock—meaner, more practical, and with a reputation for wildness. You'd never expect it to look at them, that Legolas was the heavy, but when he pullet it out for the world to see, boy was it a treat to watch.

Gollum reluctantly tapped the tourist on the shoulder. “Uh, pardon me, precious. Did you, *Gollum*, drop your wallet?”

“Oh yeah,” The tourist said, taking the wallet. “Hey, this is mine!” He leafed through the contents, checking that it was all there. “Thank you!”

“Let us take a walk,” Legolas said and grabbed Gollum’s arm, pulling him with them as Gimli led the way around into the alley.

“Let me give you something for your trouble!” The tourist called after them.

“Keep it,” Legolas said, short, cutting off Gollum.

“Thank you, thank you,” the tourist said as they disappeared from earshot. “Hey, how about that.”

Legolas held Gollum's arm up, just high enough to make him walk off kilter, and he hobbled along. “I thought we had an understanding, Gollum,” Legolas said, his voice deceptively calm. “You disappointed me.”

Gimli shook his head, and took Gollum by his other arm. “You promised you’d never work in our district while we were here, remember?”

“Now why did you go back on your word?” Legolas asked. Gimli opened Arod’s door. “It is not nice to go back on your word, Gollum.” They leaned Gollum up against the car and Legolas began patting him down while Gimli kept watch over his newspaper. “All right, spread out." Legolas said. "You know how to do this.” He crouched down, patting Gollum down, but still coming up empty. “Going back on your word is immoral, Gollum.” He leaned in close again and Gollum flinched at that elven grace so close. “I would hate to close the door on our relationship.”

Gollum looked at him, sullen, and Gimli smirked. Not fun to get caught was it.

“Come, precious,” Gollum said, “Let Smeagol go. Yes. Smeagol be good, yes. Smeagol promise.” *Gollum* “It would take nice cops all day to book Smeagol, yes. Not worth their time, no. Smeagol not worth the hassle, precious.”

Legolas and Gimli exchanged a look. Gollum, *Smeagol* when he was being penitent, had a point. He was small-potatoes; there were bigger fish to fry. There was always bigger fish to fry. Gimli jerked his head, and Legolas let him go. Gollum slunk away, practically slithering.

“Gollum,” Gimli called after him. Gollum flinched, and looked back. “Next time you put your hand in somebody’s pocket, you better be engaged.” Gollum bobbed his head, as if he was nodding, and stopped.

“Today is the seventeenth, isn’t it precious?” he said, almost to himself.

Gimli raised an eyebrow. “All day,” he said. “Somebody’s birthday?”

Gollum just shook his head and skittered off. Gimli shook his head at Legolas. “He must be back on the junk, the way he shakes.” Legolas shrugged and went around the driver’s side. “He never would have crossed us a year ago,” Gimli said, nearly to himself, and opened his door.

“What is it about this date?” Legolas asked. “Since when did it matter to Gollum what day he picked somebody’s pocket?” Gimli shrugged, and they climbed into the car in unison.

***

Nighttime in LA. The darkness was broken by the jaggeded electric lights of the street, and they swept in waves over Arod as Legolas and Gimli drove their beat. Legolas had been twitching for a good quarter hour, but for once Gimli was not inclined to ask why. Instead, he sat with his arms crossed, staring out the window at the city nightlife.

“Alright, what is bothering you?” Legolas asked, breaking.

Gimli sighed and ran a hand over his mustache. “I’m starting to feel like salt in the sugar bowl,” he said. “Still can’t get over Gollum, how _surprised_ he was to see us.” Legolas nodded, not saying anything or looking from the road, giving Gimli time to speak. “And he ain’t the only one,” Gimli said, warming to the subject. “That hooker on third, Creepy Charlie, and the other one…they all acted like we were something from another planet.”

Legolas took a deep breath. “Maybe someone put the word out that we were transferred,” he said.

“Hey,” Gimli said, and Legolas looked over to him. “Everybody can’t think we were transferred.” Legolas didn’t say anything; he knew Gimli was right.

“Maybe not, but check two o’clock.”

Gimli looked, there, speaking to one of the local working girls, was a hobbit of impressive girth. He caught sight of Arod and paled, quickly turning tail and fleeing. “The Pimple thinks so.”

“Spotted us and took right off,” Gimli said. “Hey, you think we got ring around the collar?”

Legolas pulled the car into a spot on the curb outside the dive The Pimple ran into. “Probably be the same thing that’s got everybody else so uptight,” he said. They had just popped open the door when the radio beeped.

_“Zebra three, come in. Zebra three.”_

Gimli groaned. “What do they want?” Legolas reached back into Arod for the radio.

“Zebra three, here, what is it?” He snapped.

“Zebra three, the following from Captain Boromir. He wants you back in here, urgent and immediate.”

Gimli growled, and sat back down. He took the radio from Legolas. “Dispatch, you better say that again. Our radio’s been acting up.”

He banged the mic against the console, faintly hearing, _“The following from Captain Boromir.”_ Legolas smirked at him, and got out of the car once more. “Sometimes we can’t hardly hear a thing,” Gimli said, and hung up the radio, jumping back out of the car and slamming the door behind him. He fell into step with Legolas as they strode into the dive.

The air was thick with cigarette smoke, and the dingy lightbulbs seemed to have given up on lighting more than the bare minimum. The people inside seemed just as hopeless, chain-smoking and drinking their troubles away. The room was loud with drunk-cheer, and Legolas waved his hand before his head in a futile attempt for clear air. The smoke didn’t bother Gimli; he had been known to enjoy a pipe or two himself from time to time, a holdover from his youth in Ered Luin, the dwarven neighborhood in New York. Most of his childhood memories were tinged with the blue of dwarven tobacco, and he had learned at his father’s knee. It was only in the academy, when he had first partnered with Legolas, that he had decided to limit his habit.

Legolas led them all the way to the back, where The Pimple was just hanging up the payphone. Legolas leaned on the wall next to him, while Gimli came up behind. “Hey, how’s it going, Pimple,” Legolas said. Gimli rolled his eyes; he could spend hours trying to get Legolas to speak street to no avail, but the minute Legolas really needed to, it just flowed off of his tongue. 

“Great, Greenleaf,” The Pimple said. “Really sensational. How’s it going with you guys, huh?”

Gimli reached around The Pimple, looming over and nearly hugging him, and pulled the dime from the change slot. “Fine, Pimple, fine,” he said, and held up the dime from the incomplete call. “Here’s your dime.”

“Thanks,” The Pimple said, sounding vaguely sick.

“So anxious to talk to us, you couldn’t wait to finish your conversation, aye?” He patted The Pimple’s cheek, and the Pimple stuttered as Gimli slunk back and leaned against the pool table. It was sized for men, this was a Man bar, and Gimli rested his elbow on the corner. Looking up, he noticed the bar looking at him, and not in the same way he was used to when forces to deal with Man-sized furniture.

“Well, uh… I forgot the number,” The Pimple started to walk away and Legolas tapped his shoulder.

“In the middle of dialing?” he asked. “That’s a little unusual, isn’t it Pimple?” Legolas walked past The Pimple to join Gimli.

“Dig that,” Gimli said, nodding his head at the staring patrons. “I mean, I can take looks like this from one or two people, but this is getting out of hand.” Legolas frowned, and Gimli could see the gears turning. Still, only one way to find out what was up once and for all. He looked at Legolas, who nodded at him, on board. 

Gimli pushed himself off of the pool table and took the tray of the waitress as she passed by. “All right, folks, all right.” He called out, slapping the tray on the bar. “It’s time we formed some new lines of communication, here.” He stepped behind the bar and up onto the mini-ramp designed for just that purpose. They must have a hobbit or dwarf bartender to bother.

“Now, you all know me and Greenleaf" he pointed over to Legolas, who was looking at them all darkly as he walked among them "—that’s Greenleaf there with The Pimple—and you all know we’re cops," as he talked, he paced, looking each of the occupants in the eye, or as close to as they'd let him. "And we know you know. And we know that you don’t like us, but gang," he paused, spreading his hands, "that’s the way it is.”

One of the women in the bar wasn't looking at them so hard, it had to hurt, and Legolas pulled her around to face them. “Come here, green eyes.”

Gimli tapped the tray on the table again. “So, all day long, everybody’s been looking at us, like we were Lazarus the day after, and it’s starting to get to us." He stopped, looking at one bleary-eyes drunk. "You follow?" The drunk just stared at him, and he rolled his eyes before continuing on. "So that’s the question. What’s so special about two cops patrolling the same district they been patrolling for the last three years? Now," He dropped the tray on the bar and leaned in, both palms flat. "Somebody in here has got the answer…”

Legolas rapped on a table. “Come on, wake up, wake up.”

“…and that’s what we want to find out. See?" Gimli grabbed a stack of scratch paper from beside the register, and pulled a handful of pencils from a cup. "So…," The drunk in front of him, Creepy Charlie! Again! What're the odds? Sneered at him. "Thank you. Charile!" He handed him a piece of paper and a pencil, and continued to do the same up the line. "If each of you would be so kind as to write down what you think might be the answer, no words are necessary. Twenty-five words or less will do. Neatness and originality will be taken into consideration.” He smiled at their blank stared. 

“What’s for first prize?” called out one of the more dim, yet brazen, women in the room. Gimli stared at her for a minute. 

“One hundred-thousand units of penicillin, sweetheart," he said, and then added, dryly, "Share it with your friends.”

Legolas said from across the bar, “You know, Gloinul, we’ll have to shut this place down, we don’t get what we’re looking for.”

“Close it down? On what grounds?” the bartender demanded. 

Legolas leaned over the bar. “Public safety code two-three-seven-seven says even open sewer has to have a manhole cover.” Legolas winked. “Thank you.”

The bartender turned red, but kept his cool; it was time to wrap this farce up. “All right, folks, time’s up!" Gimli said, and began collecting the pieces of paper. "Thank you, blondie. Very good." He took the piece of paper of a particularly dead-eyes young woman, which read _Fuck you, stunted pig._ Gimli looked at her with mock surpise. "Does your Mommy know you use language like this?" The woman had the wherewithal to look away, and Gimli continued down the line. Thanks for the pencil, Charlie. Thank you, thank you. Oh, everybody’s being so nice." He dropped the stack of papers on the bar and started to look through them. "Now, let’s see what we got here. French!" he threw it over his shoulder. "That’s good.”

Legolas felt a large presence behind him and turned, staring down the big man that had come up so close behind him. “What is this, a bus stop?” he said, and the man backed off. 

“Here it is!" Gimli said, holding a piece of paper up and slapping it with the back of his other hand. "Paydirt." He lowered it, and when Legolas joined him said, "Says I was supposed to have been wasted last night.” It wasn't the first such threat, nor even the third. It didn't actually get any easier to handle, but it was easier to fake. 

“Yeah," Legolas said, looking over his shoulder. "It says it in ink. Just like the pen I loaned The Pimple.”

Gimli raised his eyebrows, looking back over his shoulder. “Really?” he drawled. 

“Come on, come on. What are you pulling?" The Pimple protested. "You guys said no names!”

“I didn’t say that,” said Legolas. He pointed to Gimli. “He said that.” 

Gimli stomped over and grabbed The Pimple by the arm. “You win first prize, Dumbo. Come on." He pulled him over to the very back of the bar and the further of two pool tables. "Okay, Pimple," Gimli said, leaning in real close, like he was talking to a friend. "Who was supposed to kill me?”

But The Pimple just shook his head. “I don’t know, Gloinul, on my mother’s life, I don’t know.”

Gimli scolwed. “You don’t have a mother. You were found in a garbage can behind Weight Watchers. Again, who?”

Still, The Pimple denied it. “I don’t know, really!” Legolas came up on his other side, the tray from before laden with a scotch glass and a bottle of something that came out of the seedier side of Mirkwood. “Just that—that everybody heard that there was a contract out on you, that it was supposed to be last night. I don’t know who or what or where, it was just…you know, it was just a rumor.” The Pimple was sweating heavily in the overhead light, and he wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. 

“Aye,” Gimli said, and backed off. Legolas had a plan, and until he knew what it was, he'd turn over the reigns." 

“Why don’t you have a drink, Pimple,” Legolas said, and handed The Pimple a drink. “Go on.”

“Thanks Greenleaf.” The Pimple said, taking it with some surprise, but no less greed. 

Legolas watched him drink, his bright eyes glinting in the dim light. A shine sparked off his tooth, sharper than man or dwarf. “You know something, Gloinul?” Legolas said. 

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think that Pimple here is being completely honest with us," Legolas said, taking the empty glass from The Pimple's hand. 

“No, really?” Gimli said, all feigned surprise. 

“Oh come on." The Pimple said, looking between them. "Would I lie to you guys?”

“I don’t know," Legolas said, "because when you saw us, you headed straight for that phone," he pointed, "and I sure as hell would like to know who it was you were talking to.”

The Pimple fidgeted, but it was a subtle motion; he was getting better, but he'd never be good. “Yeah, I was calling my bookie.”

“Yeah?" Legolas said, and poured. "Have another drink.” Again, The Pimple drank, as Gimli said:

“No kidding? What were you betting on?” Gimli had his arms crossed, spine casual. If this position showed off prodigious biceps, or forearms like thick corded steel, then that was not Gimli's concern. 

“Basketball game." The Pimple said. "Lakers and Knicks.”

“Hmm.” Legolas said, and took the glass. 

“What kind of spread did he give you?” Gimli asked. 

The Pimple didn't hesitate, warming to the lie. “Knicks, plus four.”

“Not bad.” Gimli said, like he was considering placing a bet himself. (And honestly, he would, if Nori was running the pool. Wagers were an important pass-time in dwarven culture, but these days it didn't pay to play with any but family). 

“How’d you know that, Pimple," Legolas said, handing him another drink, "when you didn’t complete the call?”

The Pimple laughed, looking between them. Legolas leaned in until The Pimple was forced to lean back. 

“You know, there’s something you ought to know about Gloinul and me. We’re not like most partners. You know usually there’s the one guy whose kind of folksy, who wants the best for everybody. The Pat O’Brian kind of guy?”

“Yeah," The Pimple said. 

“Yeah. Then there’s the other guy, the rough ‘em up hard-nose kind of guy. Well, that doesn’t work for Gloinul and Me. See, we’re both hard-nosed, Pimple. And we don’t like it when people don’t give us everything we want.”

Finally finding his spine, The Pimple shook his head. “I’m telling you all that I’m going to tell you.”

Gloinul sighed. So much for doing this the easy way. 

“Okay, Pimple,” Legolas said, amiably. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to put you under arrest.”

“Under arrest," The Pimple spluttered. "What for?”

“Open drukenness." Legolas said, as if that was obvious. "You’ve had over six brandys in five minutes. Get over here!” He grabbed The Pimple and marched him out of the bar, using some of that deceptive elven strength, as The Pimple complained. Gimli followed more slowly, leaving the bar with his head held high.

***

Legolas parked Arod between two black and whites, and by the time he turned off the car and hopped out, Gimli was walking through to meet him. 

“Hey, that didn’t take long," Legolas said, surprised. 

“Ah, you’d think he was being booked for the first time," Gimli groused. "Screamed like a stuck pig.”

Just then, something bright red and very familiar caught Legolas's eye and it was towed into the garage. “Hey Gimli,” Legolas said, and nodded towards it.

“What?” Gimli asked, just as the tow truck brought in a cherry-red Grand Torino with a white racing stripe; the windshield was so full of bullet holes, it looked like swiss cheese. “Hey! That’s just like my car!” Gimli said, and Legolas repressed a shudder; he hated when Gimli was so cavalier about his own mortality. It weighted on Legolas like a loadstone. He didn't understand how it didn't weigh down Gimli, also. He followed Gimli over to inspect the damage. 

“It’s no wonder they were surprised to see you,” Legolas said, face like stone. It was all to easy to see Gimli in the driver's seat behind the holes, too easy to imagine his blood and brainstuff splattered over the shining black upholstery. Legolas focused on the specifics, to distract himself from might-have-beens. “Looks like they got it point blank," he said. "Sure didn’t take any chances on missing.”

Gimli shook his head. “That is a stinking crime.”

Legolas looked up. Gimli didn't sound like he's just had a brush with his own mortality. “Trying to kill you, you mean?”

“Aye," Gimli said, and then had to add: "Not to mention screwing up a great car like that," before twisting away. Legolas had to center himself before following; this love he had for his partner would be the death of him, he was sure of it. 

***

District Attorney Saruman was considered an authority on the law, and had the respect of many in the department, including ADA Gandalf, who seemed to like him in spite of himself. Gimli himself wasn't too fond, and would readily admit that a lot of that was the normal prejudice cops have against lawyers, who tended to undo the work of honest cops as much as they complete the process. Still, there was something about Saruman's voice that was commanding of attention, and would even if what he was saying wasn't so personal. “We have reason to believe someone tried to kill Detective Gloinul last night. According to the Internal Affairs report, the Torino was stolen in the Ottowa Hills section of town, and then driven out to the beach where the murders occurred.”

Sergeant Eomer was the kind of IA dick that gave IA dicks a bad name, and the fact that he had taken an immediate dislike to Gimli, and by extension Legolas, wasn't raising Gimli's opinion of him any. “It’s the IA’s contention that they spotted the car and thought Gloinul here was out with a girl." He paused, catching himself from saying something, and Gimli could just picture what. "He, uh, has that reputation, as we all know," Gimli sucked his teeth, and refused to look up, even as he could feel Legolas fairly vibrating with anger next to them. "And then they followed the Torino, and killed the two young people, thinking they were getting Gloinul.”

“Wait a minute," Legolas said. "Who is ‘they’?” Gimli looked at him; that had been his question.

Saruman answered. “Someone hired by The Mayor to stop you from testifying against him at the trial Wednesday morning." He addressed Captain Boromir. "I know it sounds like a long shot, Captain, just because the car involved was the same as Gloinul here drives,” he said, tapping Legolas on the shoulder.

Legolas rounded on him, glaring. “I’m Greenleaf. He’s Gloinul," he said, finally letting loose with some of the ire he had been repressing. 

Captain Boromir cleared his throat. Gimli liked Captain Boromir; most of the cops in Homicide did. He was fair, and had been a Homicide Detective himself, once, and one that knew what it was like to fight against an unearned reputation. Not only was Boromir the son of Denethor, one of the greatest Commissioners the City had known, but he was also fighting the image of his father at the end, senile and raving less than a year after retirement. Add to that the general shit he had to slog through as a black man, well--Gimli was damn impressed. Men had the strangest notions on the importance of coloring and kin. “Well, anyway, what Saruman is trying to point out is that you’re not the only one to drive that kind of car.”

“No I’m not,” Gimli agreed, and then said after a moment's pause: “But it’s not exactly a model T either. Not with that paint job, and the shocks set it up on it’s nose more than most." He wagged his head. "I’d say it might be a case of mistaken identity, but uh…" He shook his head. "It wouldn’t be The Mayor.”

Saruman glared at him, as if he wasn't taking this seriously. “Together, your testimony can convict him of eight counts of bribery. Don’t you think that’s sufficient motive?”

“Aye,” Legolas said. “I think that’s sufficient motive. I also think he’s sufficiently bright not to try to get at us that way.”

“Then who else?” Eomer asked.

“Then who else?” Saruman asked, barely a second later. 

Legolas looked at Gimli, raising his eyebrows. “Who else?”

“Who else?” Gimli said, tapped his lip, pretending to consider.

Legolas snapped. “The Coleman brothers. They’d mulch us if they got the chance.” Gimli nodded, agreeing.

“Hey, what about the guy with the bad breath?” Gimli asked. “You know, with the—”

“Aye, yes,” Legolas said, snapping his finger. “Pucker!”

“Pucker!” Gimli said, raising his hand. 

“Pucker. He’d take a shot.” Legolas said. 

“What about the Clancy brothers?” Gimli asked.

“Aye,” Legolas drawled.

Gimli shrugged. “They might take a crack at splashing us again.”

“Aye, and Poindexter—” Legolas added, but he was cut off by Boromir, who was clearly not amused and not really trying to hide it.

“All right, fellas. Knock it off.”

“Look, one thing is definite,” Saruman said. “I want you two men off the street till after The Mayor’s trial, for your own good.”

Everyone argued at that; only Eomer seemed happy about it. But Boromir was the first to have his voice cut through the fray. 

“Look, Councilor,” Boromir said. “Our department has a schedule to meet, too. Maybe you don’t know that, and there’s a lot of places these guys got to be. For openers, we have a very important narco stakeout to run, and it’s taken six months to set it up, and besides all that," he snapped, temper finally fraying. "I’ll tell my men in this department when to go, and I’ll tell them where!”

“Now look, Captain,” Saruman said, but was cut off by the ringing telephone.

Boromir grabbed it. “Yeah?!”

“And you said he was just another pretty face,” Gloinul said, probably not quietly enough, and Legolas looked at him, tongue pressed firmly to his cheek.

“All right, I’ll tell him that,” Boromir said, and hung up the phone and turned to Legolas and Gimli. “Drunk you just busted. The bondsman is processing him out now, Mike said you wanted to know about it.”

Legolas stood before Boromir was finished speaking, and Gimli was hot on his heels. “Got it,” he said.

Legolas stopped him, pressed close and Gimli felt his blood race with more than just the thrill of the hunt. “I’ll cover him,” Legolas said. “Let’s exchange cars. You get your car.”

“Gotcha,” Gimli said, tapping his shoulder, and they were on their way out the door.

Legolas paused when Gimli opened the door, and said, sweetly. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Saruman.” He turned. “And Lt. Eomer. Always a laugh talking to you.” Legolas winked, left, leaving Saruman to call after him.

“Now you wait just a minute!”

Gimli cleared his throat. He took his cap off his head and turned to Captain Boromir. “Will that be all?” he asked, very calmly.

“Yeah,” Boromir said, and Gimli nodded his head, throwing up a two-fingered salute, and followed Legolas out the door. He was stopped when Saruman said.

“May I ask why you’re changing cars?”

Gimli stopped, half out the door. “Sure,” he said. “To let whoever it is know that it didn’t work.” He went to shut the door, then stopped, stepped back in, close to Saruman, and said: “Hey. You see, what you guys don’t realize is that Greenleaf and me are willing to get burned out in the street, but it would hurt like hell if we lost sitting on our tails.” He raised his eyebrows, looked to Captain Boromir, and left to meet Legolas.

***

Legolas at his desk and picked up his phone, ignoring the chaos that surrounded him. He dialed and waited. “Hello, who is this?” He paused. “Charlie, I want to leave a message for Strider. Aye, would you tell him that Gloinul and Greenleaf want to see him tomorrow night. Aye.” He licked his lips. “No, he’ll know where and when. That’s Greenleaf and Gloinul. Thank you.” He hung up the phone just in time to see The Pimple step up to the processing window, and when he walked to the payphone with a plastic bag of his possessions, Legolas was there. “Calling your bookie again, Pimple?”

The Pimple giggled, and hung up the phone without completing the call. “No, no,” he said. “Calling my mother. Wanted her to know I might be a little late for, uh, din-din.” He laughed again, and then walked out, still chucking to himself.

***

Legolas was leaning against his car when Gimli pulled the Torino around the curve and into the garage. He was somber, even for him, when he sat in the passenger seat, and Gimli looked over. “What’s bothering you, lad?” he asked.

“I do not know,” Legolas said. “It’s like when I was married.” Gimli took a deep breath, and looked away. Legolas's marriage was unusual for elven kind; divorce was unheard of, but Legolas had done it, and a great cost to himself, though he was better off for it. His wife, Nancy, had not been able to handle being a policeman's wife, and Legolas had paid dearly for that. Gimli didn’t like it when Legolas spoke of it; it meant hurt to think of the pain Legolas had endured. (But he had, and he had lived, which Gimli was sure had to mean _something_ ). “Nancy and I would go out, and we would leave the house. She would go running back, sure she had left the water running or something…”

He trailed off. “And?” Gimli prompted, sharper than he intended, but Legolas didn’t seem to notice. He stuffed a piece of chocolate into his mouth. His pipe smoking had gone down, sure, but his sweet consumption had doubled.

“And I have that feeling about The Pimple,” he said. “He did something. He said something that was not right, and I will be damned if I know what it is, but I saw it.” Now, Legolas turned to look at him, eyes bright in the shadows of the car. “I was there, and I saw it.”

It would come to Legolas when he stopped thinking about it. It always did. “Fix my mirror, will you?” Gimli asked, mouth half-full. Legolas sighed.

“Aye,” he said, and adjusted the mirror as Gimli backed out of the space he was in.

***

Gimli pulled up alongside a homeless man digging through the trash. Legolas leaned out of the window. “Not much of a take today, Lijah?” he asked.

“Not enough to keep a body and soul together,” Lijah answered, not looking up from his search. He pulled a glass bottled from the trash and put it in a paper bag.

Legolas smiled sadly; thinking of Nancy always set him in a melancholy mood, the loss of her, toxic though she was, would always feel like a wound. “Yeah, well, I guess there are not a lot of people who like to think the end of the world is coming,” he said.

“I think it’s already happened, brother,” Lijah said. “And we’re all in hell.

Legolas looked over at Gimli, wether he knew it or not, the reason for his recovery. _I'd rather an eternity in hell with you, than a minute without you in heaven,_ he thought, and reached into his pocket for a dollar bill. “Lijah,” he said softly. “Just in case, put in a good word for us, will you?”

Lijah smiled at him, softly. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said.

“I know,” Legolas said. Lijah bowed, elven style, and a sparrow fluttered by to alight on his shoulder. Once again Legolas wondered just who exactly Lijah used to be 

“Take it easy, Lijah,” Gimli called across Legolas, and they drove off, hearing Lijah call to his friend that he would treat him to some coffee.

“Softie,” Gimli teased, gently, and Legolas just smiled.

***

“It’s a toilet bowl; Aye, that’s what it is,” Gimli said, much later, casually driving the Torino one-handed. 

“What are you speaking of?” Legolas asked, smiling bemusedly. 

“This,” Gimli said, gesturing around them with a hand. “What we do, where we do it. You and I, we are like little bugs waiting to crawl up, and every time we try, someone flushes.”

Legolas considered this. “Yes, well, you and I can be thankful that we are a couple of bugs who know how to swim,” Legolas said.

Gimli chuckled with little humor. “Aye,” he said, and stiffened. There, in the rearview window, was a black car, one that he’d seen before. “Especially since we’ve a shark on our tail.”

“Do you think he is following us?” Legolas asked.

Gimli bared his teeth. “Let’s find out,” he said. Shifting gears, he gunned it, down the street and off the main drag.

“How about that alley,” Legolas said, pointing calmly, as if being chased by hitmen was something they did every day. 

Gimli was already turning. “That’s a fine idea, Ollie,” he said. The black car screeched after them, down this alley, and the next, and the next.

Legolas looked over his shoulder. “He is still with us.”

“I think he probably wants to make friends,” Gimli said. They roared across the empty streets until Gimli nearly ran into a station wagon making a turn. He spun, and the black car following him into the spin, and for a minute they chased each other’s tails like a couple of cats. At last, Gimli pulled away and led the black car into an empty parking lot.

Gimli parked the Torino, and the other car pulled up next to them, nose in, and Legolas and Gimli were out of the car, guns drawn. “You get the driver!” Gimli shouted.

“Get out of there!” Legolas ordered, pulling the driver bodily from the car.

Gimli ran to the passenger side, catching the door as it opened, and pulling the man out, yelling “Come out here, come out here!” He spun him around by his lapels and slammed him against the hood of the car. The man bent, and Gimli jumped on his back, straddling him like a horse and pulling the man’s arms behind him.

“Take it easy!” Legolas’s guy yelled. “He’s got a message for you!”

Gimli bounced, gun pressed to the guy’s back. “What is it?”

“The Mayor!” The guy cried out. “He wants to meet with you!”

“When?” Gimli yelled, twitching.

“Why?” Legolas demanded, forcing his magnum harder against his guy’s neck.

“I don’t know why,” the guy cried out. “But the word is now!”

Gimli and Legolas exchanged a look over their backs. What now?

***

Mr. Mayor, referred to as The Mayor by everyone, but not to his face, was the head of a large criminal organization with just enough legitimacy to make it hard to crack, and just enough lawyers on their payroll to make it almost not worth it when they do. He was a smarmy man, self-important, with a cruel cunning that made him dangerous to know. 

Gimli pressed the doorbell on the mansion door, and looked around while they waited for the door. The butler opened it, and Legolas asked, “Is this the Mr. Mayor's residence?” he asked.

“We’re Gloinul and Greenleaf,” Gimli added. “We’ve got an appointment with Mr. The Mayor.” The butler stepped back and Legolas walked through. “Uh, He’s Greenleaf, and I’m Gloinul,” Gimli added, off put. He wasn’t used to this level of opulence; dwarven grandeur was a different animal, one that melded the practical with the delicate. There was none of this tasteless display. 

A young woman walked down the stairs dressed in a stately business suit, her blond hair perfectly coiffed. Legolas stepped forward to meet her. “I’m Mr. Greenleaf, this is Mr. Gloinul,” he said, and Gimli nodded at her. “We’re expected.”

“He’s right here,” she said, and led them up the side of the grand staircase. A man in a suit appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Alright, that’s far enough,” he said, and they stopped.

“Alfric,” she said, and turned to introduce them with a wave of her hand. “Mr. Greenleaf and Mr Gloinul.” She turned and walked past them down the stairs. “Would you please take off your clothes?”

Gimli looked at Legolas and raised his eyebrows. They'd been hit on as a pair before, but the women usually weren’t that forward.

Legolas cocked his head. “Why do we have to take off our clothes?”

The woman stopped, and looked back to them. “Because Mr. Mayor is in the steam bath,” she said. “And he expects you to join him there.”

“See, if you’ve got no clothes on,” Alfric said, walking down the step. Gimli leaned back: he could smell the man's cheap cologne from here, and if he could smell it, Legolas must be drowning in it. “Mr. Mayor knows you’re not wired for sound. Mr. Mayor doesn’t like people wired for sound.”

“Well, there goes his political career,” Legolas quipped.

Alfric glanced at him, and dismissed him like he didn't get the joke. “If you don’t mind, we’ll just take your hardware,” Alfric said, stepping forward.

Legolas and Gimli worked as one, using their own weight against them, Gimli tossed Alfric against the wall, while Legolas tossed his partner down the stairs. Gimli pulled Alfric’s gun from his holster and held it up. “Not nice, Alfric,” he said. “Not nice. Now tell me.” He sent his knee up, and Alfric grunted. “Where is the steam room?”

“Door,” Alfric said, and pointed to the top of the stairs. “Three.”

“Thank you,” Gimli said, and tossed Alfric down the stairs after his companion.

They entered a parlor, just as richly decorated as the rest of the house, and began to strip off their coats and their holsters.

“You know, my mother always used to tell me to wear clean underwear, in case I was ever in an accident, so I wouldn’t shock the nurses.” Legolas said, and pulled off his sweater. Gimli laughed, and pulled off his own over-shirt, and then the black shirt underneath. Gimli always tried to implement locker-room rules, but Legolas was either blithely ignorant or deliberately provoking him. Gimli knew which he preferred to think, and had, in fact, several late-night guilty fantasies to prove it, but knew the possibility was slim. “As I recall, this particular situation did not enter into the conversation.” Gimli gave him a wry smile that barely met his eyes, and started undoing his belt as Legolas folded his sweater.

Neither of them noticed the door opening behind them, or the woman walking through it, and continued to strip down. Gimli was tossing his pants over the back of the chair when she said from behind them: “Would either of you like anything to drink?” Gimli froze, sure that she had seen something that would give him away. 

“Uh,” Legolas stuttered. “No thank you, ma’am,” he said, and grabbed a towel from her hand. Where was this shyness when it was just the two of them? Why did she get his blushes and stammers? Gimli quickly grabbed the other towel. “We are on…on duty," Legolas said. 

“Couldn’t tell honey,” she said, walking away with a smirk. “You ain’t wearing a badge.”

Legolas looked at Gimli, still a little pink, and Gimli could do nothing but shrug and not look at where Legolas's towel was slung low on his hips. He could just make out the outline of...no. 

Moments later, they walked into the steam room, wearing nothing but the towels and their holsters.

“Nice, huh?” Came a voice from the steam. “You see?” They turned, and spotted The Mayor in the corner of the room. The Mayor was not an attractive man, but he was a powerful man, so it was almost the same thing. He was seated on a high tiled bench build into the side of the wall. “Crime does pay,” he said, and held his arms wide.

“Mr. Mayor?” Legolas asked. 

“Yes,” The Mayor said, and nodded. 

“Mr. Mayor,” Legolas said, walking over and bracing his leg on the step below where The Mayor was sitting. “Does it pay enough to make you want to kill us?”

“No,” The Mayor said, very calm for someone just accused of the attempted murder of two cops. He either was innocent, or very, very guilty. “But crime creates wealth, and wealth begets envy, and someone who envies me is attempting to frame me with your murder.”

“Well, we haven’t been murdered yet,” Gimli said, and climbed up to sit next to The Mayor. “So you’re in the clear, lad.”

“I know,” The Mayor said. “I know, but they’ll try again. Cigar?” he offered up the box.

“No, thanks,” Gimli said, but he could feel the want start deep in his gut. He’d pull his pipe out tonight. The Mayor offered the box to Legolas, who declined with a thanks.

“Havana,” The Mayor said, and placed the box next to Gimli. “Yes, they’ll try again. Sometime. Today, tonight, because if they kill you after the trial, I don’t have a motive and they can’t frame me, and that is what this is really all about.”

“In other words,” Legolas said. “We will be dead, and you will be the injured party?”

The Mayor looked at him. “Exactly.” He pulled a cigar from the box and began to work it loose.

Legolas frowned. “But Mr. Mayor, you know damn well that if we testify against you in court tomorrow, you are in for a very heavy fall.” 

“Not really,” The Mayor said, shaking his head. “Let me tell you how it will work. If you testify, I will be found guilty, because as we all know, I am guilty, but then my lawyers will ask the judge to fix bail, which will be an outrageous sum, but not so outrageous that I couldn’t pay it, so I’ll be home in time for cocktails.” He looked down at the cigar, but still continued to work the tobacco inside. “Then, my lawyers will appeal, and the appeal will be denied, then they will appeal higher up, and then that appeal will be denied. Very shortly, this case will drag through the courts for five or six years. Now, I’m sixty-one,” he waved a hand. “I have high blood pressure. My father died at fifty-eight. By any actuarial projections, I wont make it to sixty-five. So you see, the courts will find me guilty two years after I’m dead.” He smiled, and snipped the tip from the cigar. “I think I’ll be able to weather the disgrace of it all.”

Gimli leaned in. “So help us stay alive, so you don’t get framed. Tell me. You know a team of hit men, two guys who work together at point blank range?”

The mayor nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“What are their names?” Gimli asked, hoping.

“Ah, no, no, no, no, no, no.” The Mayor said, wagging his finger. “I wouldn’t give you their names.” He grew serious. “They didn’t do it, because if they did, you’d be dead.”

“You’re that sure?” Gimli said.

“That sure, and more,” The Mayor said, and lit his cigar. “So why don’t you spend the night here, and tomorrow morning we’ll have a big breakfast and go to the trail together?” He grinned through a plume of smoke. “And there’s no way they could blame me for your murder.”

“Oh, thank you very much, Mr. The Mayor, but we’ve got appointments,” Legolas said, and stood. They stepped off the dias, when The Mayor stopped them with a word.

“Gentlemen.” They turned. “Are these appointments worth dying for?”

“Even dying’s a living,” Gimli said, and they left the sweltering room.

***

It wasn’t raining so much as pouring down buckets. The pool of the complex was overflowing, and the runoff was pouring into the bushes where they were crouched. Legolas sneezed.

_“Gesundheit,”_ Gimli said over the radio from across the way.

“Thanks,” Legolas said, scrubbing his face. He looked like a drowned cat; not even elven grace was enough to keep him looking pretty in all of this. Gimli shifted for a better view. “What is he doing, Gimli?” Legolas asked. Gimli squinted into the darkness; his night vision was much better, but even he had a hard time in this much rain.

“Looks like he’s waiting for somebody,” Gimli said.

“So are we,” Legolas said. “And remind me to thank Boromir for keeping us on the streets.”

“He didn’t say anything about monsoons, that fink.” Gimli blinked up at the sky, but there was just more rain. 

“How about that IA creep, Eomer?” Legolas asked. “Now there is a beauty. I would bet that he is smart enough to stay out of this rain,” he griped. 

“That’ll get you twenty that he’s in some dolls’ house, warm and snug, like our friend on the second floor up here.” Gimli shifted again, trying to find a position that wouldn’t leave a rock digging into his backside, or his arse in a puddle. 

“You think he’s got the stuff up there?” Legolas asked.

Gimli hoped so. “If he does, we can’t prove it, or even get enough cause to get a warrant. We’ve got to nail him with it.”

“Well, I hope it’s soon, my friend. I think I am shrinking,” Legolas said. Gimli smiled to himself. For all that elves loved nature, Legolas had long since confessed his displeasure at being outside in this type of rain. Gimli had teased that Legolas had not been made of spun sugar. 

A woman walked out of the building in pajamas and a trench coat, walking a dalmation in a raincoat.

“Legs, three o’clock,” Gimli said. 

“Where?” Legolas asked. “Oh, yes. There.”

“Come on,” she said, tugging on the dog’ leash. He did ot seem to want anything to do with the tree, the leash, or the rain. “I’m taking you to your favorite tree.”

“The ugly one is yours,” Gimli said.

“Naturally,” Legolas returned.

“Whoo, it’s pouring!” she said, and led the Dalmatian to the tree Legolas was hiding under. “Come on. It’s your favorite tree! Hurry up!”

“Gimli,” Legolas whispered into the radio. “You’re not going to believe this. They’ve found their favorite tree. It’s me!”

Gimli’s laugh was swallowed by the rain, but he was sure Legolas heard it anyway. “I thought that would be a high honor for an elf,” he said, snickering. Legolas swore in his father’s tongue, and Gimi had to literally bite his tongue. 

The woman continued to fight with the dog, who obviously knew Legolas was there, and wanted nothing to do with him. “Come on, Tiger! Hurry up!”

“Go on, Tiger,” Legolas whispered. “Go away!” 

“Go get ‘em Tiger!” Gimli half-whispered. Finally, the woman had had enough fighting, and brought the dog back inside, his business never made. “Aren’t you glad she sold her pony?”

“Ha, ha.”

Just then, a man with a mustche and a trench coat walked into the courtyard. “Gimli, check your left. We have company.” Gimli peered into the darkness to watch as the man called the elevator.

“You make him?” Legolas asked.

“I know our book from front to back,” Gimli said. “He ain’t in it.” The man got out at the second level, and walked to the senator’s door. “Bingo,” Gimli sing-songed as the door opened. A second later, the man was heading back to the elevator.

“Is he carrying anything?” Legolas asked.

“No, not that I can tell,” Gimli said. “And I don’t think they made a pass. The elevator was almost to the ground floor again. Something just wasn’t adding up.

“Then how are they going to get the junk out?” Legolas asked.

“Patience, patience,” Gimli said. “I don’t know.” He raised his binoculars once more. The door opened, and their mark stepped through with a package. “Here comes Santa Claus, and I think he’s carrying our present.” As they watched, the mark heaved the package over the railing and into the pool.

“What do you think?” Gimli asked.

“Beats the hell out of me,” Legolas said. “I guess we wait.”

A man in black, wearing a black knit cap, dropped from the roof onto the balcony outside of their mark’s door. “Not very long,” Gimli commented. “Check the upper balcony.” The man ran to the end and began climbing down the outside of the elevator shaft. “Cute,” Gimli said. “Real cute” The man grabbed the pool skimmer, and tried to fish out the package.

Gimli burst from the bushed, gun to bear. “Police! Freeze!” The man threw the skimmer at him and booked it. He tripped over a lounge chair and went down. Gimli went down hard after him, and spun the two of them into the pool. Legolas came running as the guy got his feet under him and they started to scrabble. He landed a good punch for every one of Gimli’s and he was staring to get pissed. The rain was everywhere, and in the water, Gimli felt like he could barely get his breath, let alone see, but he still managed to get the guy my the arms, pinning him, as Legolas stood above them, magnum in hand.

“You, hold it!” Legolas called. “Hold it! Come on out of there!” He crouched down and helped Gimli pull the crook out of the water. They were almost out when Gimli saw them, two men in black trenchcoats with matching blank faces and big guns. Instantly, he knew.

“Mayday!” he cried, and he and Legolas dove back into the water just as the men opened fire. The crook went down, too, but with a hole in his gut that turned the water around him instantly red. The gunmen were gone by the time Gimli and Legolas surfaced.

They climbed from the pool together, water running off them in rivers, and could only stare at the empty space where their prospective shooters had been. Gimli looked around; the sound of gunfire had drawn a crowd. “One of you men call the police!”

“Wonder who he is,” Legolas said, pointing to the floater in the pool. “Was.”

***

Legolas hit the button on the dryer with more force than necessary, but Gimli couldn’t blame him. It was cold enough that even Legolas felt it, and they were both tired of being wet. Gimli was sitting on a dryer across the way, dressed like Legolas with only a towel, for the second time that day. It seemed the universe was taunting him.

“How much longer you two going to be?” the manager asked as Gimli rung out his underthings, the water loud as it splashed against the concrete. He tossed it into the open door between his legs and grabbed the next piece of clothing. Legolas banged his boots together, trying to dry out the insides. Somehow, Legolas had ended up with a much smaller towel than Gimli, and it barely covered his decency.

“Why?” Gimli snapped.

“Because you’re not the only ones with a job to do, you know?” The manager said. “Like, uh, what should I do about the swimming pool? You think the filter will handle it all?”

Gimli frowned, focus on his shirt. “Handle what all?”

“Blood,” the manager said, as if that was obvious. “All that blood’s liable to throw that chemical balance off something fierce.”

Gimli looked at the manager, just done with the day. “I don’t know nothing about swimming pools,” he said.

The manager looked taken aback. “Well, you’re a cop, ain’t ya? I figured you’d know all about blood.”

Legolas and Gimli both stopped and looked at him, and his face fell. “Uh…the telephone’s over there if you want to call headquarters, and it’s probably on the switchboard, but you got to dial eight first.”

“Aye, thank you. Fine,” Gimli said, and the manager booked it.

Legolas froze, and looked at the phone. “Damn,” he said softly.

“What?” Gimli asked, looking up. 

Legolas nodded his head, lips pressed together. “That’s it,” he said. “That’s what The Pimple didn’t do. He didn’t dial for an outside line.” 

“What are you talking about?” Gimli asked, coming over.

“When The Pimple was released,” Legolas said, “he made a phone call, but he didn’t dial eight for an outside line. “He dialed four numbers. Now don’t you see? That’s an extension inside the building.”

“Well maybe he made a mistake,” Gimli said, because he had to, because the alternative was…

“No, no way,” Legolas said, shaking his head. “He has been in that slammer more times than he can remember. He knows what you have to do to get an outside line.”

“Well, he could have forgotten, you know. He was under a lot of pressure.” Gimli was not looking at Legolas. He was cleaning their guns, and at this, he pulled the trigger. It clicked, no sticking. Good.

“Sure, he was under a lot of pressure,” Legolas said, came round, confident. “He knows who the triggermen are, and he knows there is somebody in the department that is setting us up.”

Gimli shook his head. “What are you building?” he said. “Nobody in the department is setting us up.”

Legolas shook his head. “How did they know we had taken over on the stakeout?” Gimli stopped, and looked at Legolas, who leaned in further, bracing his arms on the machine on either side of Gimli’s hips. “We called it in to headquarters,” he said. “That is how they know, and somebody is feeding them our whereabouts every time we call it in.”

“Wait a second,” Gimli said, forgetting his racing heart when what Legolas was saying registered. “What you’re saying is that Captain Boromir, or Saruman, or Captain Boromir and Saruman, or Boromir and Steele, or Saruman and Steele, or any one of nine million other guys who are trying to kill us have a direct pipeline to the department?”

Legolas nodded. “Aye,” he said. “That’s right.”

Gimli looked away for a moment, then looked back. “Who we supposed to report this to?” he asked. “I mean, who the hell are we supposed to trust?”

“The same people we always trust,” Legolas said, looking Gimli straight in the eye. “Us.”

“Us,” Gimli repeated, and the moment hung, suspended on the line of electricity that stretched between them. 

The determination faded from Legolas’s eyes, leaving a naked yearning that made Gimli gasp. Legolas’s eyes widened, realizing what he had revealed, but before he could move, Gimli covered his hands with his own, pinning him in place. Legolas was strong, aye, but he was no match for Gimli’s strength. “Gimli,” Legolas said, faintly pleading. 

“Legolas,” Gimli said with wonder. Was it true? Did Legolas really feel the same? He could scarcely believe it, but neither could he ignore the evidence of his own eyes. “ _Bunmel!_ Beautiful...” 

Legolas’s eyes widened, with realization this time. “Is that what that means?” 

“Aye,” Gimli said. “You are more beautiful to me than any, for it is you my heart longs for. _Ghivashel _, my treasure.”__

__“Gimli,” Legolas breathed. “ _Meleth-nin._ ” he grinned, and it was brighter than any Gimli had yet seen. “My heart. I know you.” _ _

__“Aye,” Gimli said. “And I, you.”_ _

__Legolas breathed out, eyes closing in relief, and Gimli brought their foreheads together. Legolas’s skin was hot, flushed, and he was restless when touched. It took only moments for him to roll his head and capture Gimli’s mouth in a fierce kiss._ _

__He tasted of pool-water and old coffee and the sweet mints he kept in the Torino’s glove box, and Gimli had never tasted anything sweeter. Legolas’s mouth was firm, yet yeilding, soft yet sharp-toothed, and Gimli never wanted to stop. He could happily sit here in his towel, kissing Legolas, his hands twined in Legolas’s silken hair, until the gunmen found them again, but the dryer behind Legolas buzzed, and Legolas pulled back, spell broken._ _

__Legolas didn’t pull away fully, however, and rested their foreheads together once more. He was breathing heavy, and Gimli felt a thrill that it was because of him._ _

__“Gimli,” Legolas said, his voice deeper. “I would have you this night.”_ _

__Gimli closed his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, but first we have to find out who’s trying to kill us.”_ _

__Legolas nodded. “Aye. First that. Then,” he opend his eyes. They burned as fire. “You are mine.”_ _

__***_ _

__Their clothes finally dry and redressed, they left the motel. “You believe it?” Gimli asked as they walked outside._ _

__“What?” Legoas asked._ _

__“No rain,” Gimli said._ _

__Legolas looked up. “Aye,” he said. “It is clear as a bell.” It felt like a different night; everything was so different. Gimli knew him, truly knew his passions, and had not only not run from him, but had responded in kind. Legolas felt like he was walking on another plane._ _

__“Couldn’t have stopped two hours ago, huh?” Gimli grumbled, and Legolas grinned._ _

__“Hey Gimli,” Legolas said, opening up his door._ _

__“Aye?” Gimli asked._ _

__“Maybe someone is trying to tell us something.”_ _

__Gimli opened his door. “Let’s hope it’s Strider, or we’re in a lot of trouble.” They got into the car, their doors closing in unison._ _

__***_ _

__The meeting was at Gondor Movies, a grand name for a seedy triple-x joint. They entered the theatre halfway through the movie, Legolas following Gimli and trusting him to see better in the dark. Idly munching on popcorn, Gimli stopped Legolas was a hand on his chest a few steps into the theatre. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Isn’t that the chick we busted last week?” he pointed to the screen._ _

__Legolas cocked his head. “Aye,” he said. “She did not say she was a movie star.”_ _

__“Hey, I know that guy with the brown socks!” Gimli said, a bit too loudly, and was shushed by a man in the seat next to them. They moved on, and Gimli said, under his breath, “What does he think this is, an art museum?” Legolas laughed, and Gimli led them true to an empty pair of seats._ _

__“You know something, Gimli,” Legolas said as they sat. “She looked better dressed.” Gimli burst out laughing, and had to stifle himself, shushing Legolas, too. To be fair, however, giggling was better than the alternative--sitting here at a dirty movie, pretty thing moaning on the screen, fucked on display for those watching--it turned Gimli’s crank something fierce, and if it wasn’t for their contact, he’d be trying to see if he could make Legolas make those moans, consequences be damned. Legolas’s face was pink around the edges, and his knuckles were white; he wasn’t holding it together much better._ _

__There was a slurping behind them, and Gimli turned to see an elderly hobbit lady sipping coffee from a thermos, watching the film. His eyebrows went up, but he didn’t say anything. He heard another strange noise, and when he looked, she was shaking salt into the cup; it wasn’t coffee, it was soup._ _

__A moment later, Strider entered._ _

__Strider was tall man, dark-skinned and long of limb, and had a nose for news; he knew everything, and if he didn’t know it, he knew someone who did. He played off as a street-wise player of the game, but there was something about him, something noble beneath the slick, that made Gimli think Strider could have been someone great, in another life._ _

__“Here comes Strider,” said Legolas. Sure enough, a minute later Strider sat in front of them, shifting around until he made room for those legs. “What it is? What’s happening?” he said, putting a cigarillo in his mouth._ _

__Legolas leaned in over his shoulder. “Strider, we thought maybe you could tell us…”_ _

__Strider stiffened, match still unlit. “About what?”_ _

__“Well, let’s start at the top.”_ _

__“Do you know two hit men, probably imported recently, that tried to burn us?”_ _

__Gimli leaned in over Strider’s other shoulder as he finally lit his smoke. “And anything else you might happen to know about Boromir, or Saruman, or Eomer, or any other brother cops that might be moonlighting as bad guys?” Gimli offered his popcorn, and Strider took a couple pieces._ _

__“Gloinul,” Strider said. “I don’t like to talk to cops about cops.”_ _

__“Strider,” Gimli said, leaning in even closer. “They tried to kill us.” Strider stayed quiet, chewing. “Us,” Gimli repeated. “They tried to put holes in our bodies where our bodies are not intended to have holes, so will you talk to us now? Huh?” Gimli offered his popcorn again._ _

__Strider sighed, and took another handful. “Boromir’s a pretty good cop, but he likes the ponies too much. But he ain’t on the take, and besides, he won’t try to lay off or anything like that.”_ _

__“What about Saruman?” Legolas asked._ _

__“Saruman?” Strider repeated. “Saruman has too much bread to be on the take. Besides, he’s engaged to some pretty high-class money. The DA’s thing is like slumming, as far as he’s concerned. Henderson’s eye is on higher office.” He paused, attention clearly on the screen. “Hey, can’t you dig that? How do they do that? They….Did you…?”_ _

__“Strider,” Gimli said, and Strider settled, smoking his cigarillo. “What about Steele?”_ _

__“He’s a pretty bad cat, man,” Strider said. “I mean he’s very fond of a few working girls in the district, and let me tell you, he don’t care for you two guys at all.”_ _

__Gimli sighed. “Yeah, well, he hasn’t kept that a secret.”_ _

__Legolas blinked his bright eyes. “Strider, what about the hit men?”_ _

__“Only two new guys I heard about were Zane and Cannell, but if they were after you they would have got you.”_ _

__Gimli and Legolas shared a look._ _

__Gimli cleared his throat. “Strider, we owe you.” Without looking, Strider reached out and took the rest of Gimli’s popcorn. Gimli gave him a look, but let him take it, and he and Legolas left the theatre._ _

__***_ _

__Legolas adjusted his collar as they left the theatre, flipping it up against the chll._ _

__“You know,” Gimli said, shoving his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t touch, “The Mayor said the same thing about those two hitmen.”_ _

__“So?” Legolas said._ _

__“Let me tell you something, Legolas,” Gimli said. “When I was in high school, I played defensive back for the football team, and by the end of the season we were unbeaten, and the team we were playing were unbeaten.” He headed towards a payphone. “You got a dime?”_ _

__“Aye,” Legolas said, and dug it out of his pants._ _

__Gimli took it and dropped it into the slot, talking as he moved. “They had a black kid playing end for them. Um, what was his name…” he shook his head. “He ran one hundred in nine-nine. I couldn’t keep up with him if I was riding on a cannonball. So the thing was, I couldn’t afford to let this kid sucker me in, okay? And they kept sending this kid out to my area, and he’d go, woosh, running by me and I’d go running after him,” He stopped and turned, meeting Legolas’s eyes. “and then I’d stop to listen, Legolas, because there’s a sound that the crowd makes when the ball’s in the air. It’s kind of like ten-thousand people getting hit in the gut at the same time.” The phone picked up at the other end. “–Hello? Mr. Mayor please. Detective Gloinul here, and it’s urgent, so he’d want to be woken. Right. Thanks.” He pulled the receiver away to wait. “—And I could tell by that sound that the ball was in the air and that I’d been suckered.—Mr. Mayor? Yeah, Detective Gloinul here. One quick question. Those two guys you said couldn’t miss us…their names, are they Zane and Cannell?” he nodded. “Thank you.” Gimli hung up the phone. He licked his lips, and looked at Legolas. “I just heard that sound, Legolas. We’ve been suckered.”_ _

__Legolas frowed. “How do you mean?”_ _

__Gimli leaned in. “Everybody says these two guys couldn’t miss. Okay.” Here was the kicker. “I say they don’t miss unless they’re supposed to.”_ _

__Legolas was beginning to see, but still he asked. “Why were they supposed to miss?”_ _

__Gimli grinned with half his mouth, not with joy but with victory because he had it. “Because whoever it was wanted to kill not you and me, but one or both of those two kids that did get splashed.” He pointed behind him, as if to the station, “Nobody’s investigating those two murders because they’ve got everybody believing that it’s a case of mistaken identity. There are two bodies down there in the coroner’s cooler that nobody gives a damn about!”_ _

__Legolas nodded. “They were never after you.”_ _

__“Never.” Gimli raised his eyebrows. “Well, do you buy it?”_ _

__“I buy it,” Legolas said, and grinned._ _

__***_ _

__The coroner walked before them into the morgue. “Well, let’s see sixteen,” he said. “Sixteen, sixteen…oh, here we are.” The coroner opened the drawer and pulled the slab out, revealing a cloth covered figure. He held back the cloth, showing Legolas and Gimli. “Neat little figure she had. Wonder what her face looked like. I tell you, young people today are really something--”_ _

__“Was identification made through her fingerprints?” Gimli asked, cold. He and Legolas had to have a certain amount of control over their emotional reactions, but there was something about the complete detachment of those who worked so closely with the dead that always threw Gimli._ _

__The Coroner checked his chart. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Patricia Talbot, age 19, female, Caucasian. We used to call them ‘White.’ I can remember back in nineteen-forty-one—“_ _

__“The autopsy turn up anything?” Gimli asked._ _

__Once again the coroner checked his chart. “Well, only that she was killed with a heavy weapon at close range, and she was two months pregnant. No wedding or engagement ring.” He looked up. “You fellas seen enough?”_ _

__“Aye, thank you,” Gimli said, turning to leave. He turned back. “Can we see her personal effects?”_ _

__“Oh, I don’t think so,” The coroner said. “Her roommate was checking them out at the front desk when you two pulled in.”_ _

__Gimli started forward. _What?_ He and Legolas were already half to the door when the coroner called after them. “She’s probably gone by now.”_ _

__They were at the front desk in record time, and Gimli saw a young woman with a mess of curly red hair walking away with a full paper bag. “Miss!” he called out, jogging over to her “Uh, miss! Are you Patricia Talbot’s roommate?”_ _

__“Yeah?” she said, turning around._ _

__“Are those her personal effects?” Legolas asked. She gripped the bag tighter._ _

__“Why?” She asked._ _

__Gimli flashed his bag. “Police officers, ma’am. We’d like to take a look at ‘em, please.”_ _

__She chewed her gum at them. “Well, I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, I signed a receipt for them back there.”_ _

__“Miss, let me try to explain something to you,” Legolas started, but Gimli interrupted._ _

__“Uh, miss, uh…what’s your name?” He leaned against the wall, his whole posture shifting, softening._ _

__“Kneble,” she said. “Gretchen Kneble.”_ _

__“Well,” Gimli smiled, turning on the charm. “Miss Kneble…”_ _

__“Ms.”_ _

__“Ms. Kneble,” Gimli corrected, “we never knew Patricia, but she was murdered, and we would like to find out who did it. I think that makes us her friends, too.”_ _

__Legolas smiled at her, shining in his way, and she looked between the two of them. “Lots of cops say things like that,” she said._ _

__“Oh, aye,” Gimli said, faltering for a moment, but he recovered. “A lot of cops also say ‘Oh, what a beautiful morning,’ but I hope you know the difference between the ones that really know the melody and those that are just saying the words.” He could tell Legolas was trying very hard not to roll his eyes, and not really succeeding, but Gretchen smiled at them, knowing she was being taken in, but going anyway._ _

__“Well…” she said, and handed over the bag._ _

__Legolas snatched it up. “Thank you,” he said, and looked for a place to go through it. He settled for a nearby bench, and upended the bag. Gimli sat on the bench and began looking through, and Gretchen came over to watch._ _

__“Hey, how come the Police didn’t hang on to Patty’s stuff?”_ _

__“That’s a good question, Gretchen,” Legolas said, flipping through a notebook. “Why didn’t the police hang on to Patty’s stuff.” There didn’t seem to be anything unusual. School books, notebooks, and pens._ _

__“Hey, Gimli,” Legolas said, pausing._ _

__“Hmm?” Gimli picked up a piece of cloth, not sure what it was but it was satin and he had a good idea._ _

__“I got a notion.”_ _

__“Tell me,” Gimli said, still digging._ _

__Legolas tapped a notebook against his palm. “We’ve just been assuming the department ran makes on the two kids that were killed.” Legolas paused, and Gimli stopped, looking up. “What if they didn’t?”_ _

__Gimli stood. “On my way.”_ _

__“And check on Zane and Cannell, too!” Legolas called._ _

__“Gotcha!” Gimli said, and sat on the corner of the reception desk, picking up the phone receiver. The desk clerk looked at him._ _

__“You gotta dial eight for an outside line,” he said._ _

__“Thank you,” Gimli said._ _

__“Were you close personal friends with Miss Talbot?” Legolas asked Gretchen._ _

__She shook her head. “Nah,” she said. “They just assigned us. We didn’t take the same courses or anything. I’m a Phys Ed major. She was taking pre-law.”_ _

__Gimli held up his notebook. “Yeah, I want a Priority One make on the following individuals. Patricia Talbot, deceased.”_ _

__Legolas flipped through another book. “You said pre-law, right?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Gretchen confirmed. “Not that she was a big book drudge, though, but because lawyers are rich and she said she always wanted a rich husband.”_ _

__Legolas looked up at her and smiled. “She said that, huh?”_ _

__Gretchen nodded. “And me, I prefer a man that’s physically fit. You know what I mean?” Legolas nodded, then stopped, slowly looking up at her._ _

__Gimli tapped his pad with his pen. “There’s probably a long one on both Zane and Cannell. Yeah, probably both a red file._ _

__Legolas touched his mouth with the back of his hand. “Gretchen,” he said, pulling his hand away, “do they ever have guest instructors at the university?”_ _

__“Hmm,” she said as she thought about it. “Hardly ever in Phys Ed.”_ _

__“How about pre-law?”_ _

__Gretchen looked at him like he was dim. “I don’t know. I take Phys Ed.”_ _

__“Oh,” Legolas said. “Yeah.” He opened up a piece of paper and froze: Saruman’s name stared back at him from the middle of the page. “What’s this?”_ _

__Gretchen looked. “Class schedule,” she said._ _

__Gimli walked back over. “It’s Saruman,” Gimli said, holding his notebook up as Legolas stared at the paper._ _

__“Yeah, it’s Saruman,” Legolas said, and frowned. “How did you know that?” he asked._ _

__Gimli shrugged. “Well, I don’t know how he got to the girl, but—“_ _

__“I do, I do!” Legolas said, talking over Gimli’s, “Listen to this.”_ _

__“I do!” Legolas said again. He touched Gretchen again. “Thank you, Gretchen, thank you.” He pulled Gimli over to the side and spoke softly. “He instructs a class she takes twice a week.”_ _

__“Okay,” Gimli said, nodding. “Love happens.” he looked up. “She blooms.” He holds up his hand. “She won’t go away. She won’t get rid of the kid. He’s got a marriage coming up. He’s got to get rid of the girl.”_ _

__“What about Zane and Cannell? What did you find out?”_ _

__“He had them up on murder two. That’s a tight rap,” Gimli said. “Charges were dropped on recommendation of guess who._ _

__“District Attorney Saruman,” Legolas said. “The kid. The kid who stole the Torino. What about him?”_ _

__“On probation,” Gimli said. “At request of…”_ _

__“Saruman.” Legolas said. “So. He gets the kid to steal the car…”_ _

__“Aye,” Gimli said._ _

__“And drive the girl down to the beach, where he has Zane and Cannell waiting for them to kill them.” Legolas punched his palm. It all fit._ _

__Gimli nodded. “And Saruman gets everyone in the department thinking that I was the intended victim.”_ _

__Legolas shook his head. “The Mayor trial has nothing to do with this.”_ _

__“That’s right,” Gimli said. “The whole thing. Backing each other up, corroborating evidence, it’s all hogwash. That was all a front just to get rid of the girl.”_ _

__“It fits,” Legolas said. “It fits, it all fits.”_ _

__“I heard that sound, Legolas,” Gimli said. “The ball is in the air.”_ _

__***_ _

__They took the Torino back to Legolas’s place; the detached building was more private, and the plants in the window would keep prying eyes from seeing anything that would happen. Gimli parked, and jumped from the car, following Legolas to the door so closely Legolas dropped his keys, and when he bent to pick them up, Gimli whined in the back of his throat._ _

__Legolas opened the door, and Gimli was on him, pushing him back into the house, kissing him in the darkness of the entryway until Legolas could close the door behind them. Then, it was Gimli’s turn to be handled, pushed up against the door so Legolas could kiss him more easily. “You’re too damn tall,” Gimli griped. It was not a new complaint, but it had a different urgency to it now, and Legolas laughed, guiding them back and to the bed, where they could lay with each other, regardless of height. Their clothes were shed quickly they tussled until Legolas pinned Gimli, and ran a tender hand down the side of his face._ _

__“I don’t know how this is possible,” Legolas said, wondering. “I thought I had lost my chance at love.”_ _

__“Not lost,” Gimli said, cupping Legolas’s hand in his palm. “Wasn’t love. But it is now.”_ _

__“Aye,” Legolas said. “It is now.”_ _

__He moved, skin catching on skin and Gimli’s breath caught, his vision spinning, and then there was nothing but Legolas and the growing love between them._ _

__***_ _

__The next morning found them as they began, in Arod, watching. Gimli had dressed that morning in one of Legolas’s tee shirts, and it strained around his chest, though not too much. Legolas was dressed in sleek brown leather, and he looked real good. It had to be deliberate; Gimli wondered if they’d ever be able to get work done again, when all he wanted to do was get Legolas naked again._ _

__“There’s our boy,” Legolas said, spotting Saruman’s car. He parked in front of City Hall and stepped from his car, so supremely unconcerned that it made Gimli sick. He disappeared inside the building. A few minutes later he reappeared, moving like there was a fire in the building. Legolas started Arod, and when Saruman pulled out, they sped off after him, tailing him across the town._ _

__“Aw, we should have stuck with my car,” Gimli groaned. “He starts to take off, we’ll never stick with him in this tub.” Legolas started to laugh. “I mean, you know what happens to us if this doesn’t work?”_ _

__“It will work, it will work,” Legolas said. He was in too good a mood, there was no fire under his ass._ _

__“Come on, come on,” Gimli urged._ _

__Then it happened; Saruman crosses an intersection, and they get stuck at a red light when a pedestrian crosses the street._ _

__“He’s getting too far ahead,” Gimli said. “We got to bust the light, come on.”_ _

__“Right,” Legolas said, and punched it. As soon as they’re through, a black and white pops its lights behind them._ _

__“Gimli, I don’t barking believe it,” Legolas said._ _

__“Aw, boy.” Gimli said._ _

__Legolas handed Gimli his badge. “Yeah, will you tell those two yo-yos who we are?”_ _

__“A lotta good that’s gonna do,” Gimli said, but he’d try._ _

__Legolas pulled the car over and Gimli jumped out, holding the badge high. The beat cops came out guns drawn, however, and even though he called that they were cops, Gimli and Legolas had to raise ‘em high and wait for the penny to drop._ _

__“Are you ready for this?” Gimli asked Legolas, who just gave him an exasperated look. Saruman was getting away._ _

__Finally, the beat cop patting down Gimli stepped back. “I’m sorry Sargent Greenleaf,” he said._ _

__“Look!” Gimli said, rounding on him. “He’s Greenleaf. I’m Gloinul.” They got back into the car, the beat cops behind them still apologizing, and raced off after their mark._ _

__“We’re never going to get ‘em now. We lost em!”_ _

__“It’s all right. I have them two blocks up on the left. The hotel.” Sure enough, Saruman parked and got out of his car. Legolas pulled off down a sidestreet and Gimli jumped from the car, following him through the entrance. “I’ll take the back,” Legolas called back. “Stay in touch.”_ _

__Gimli raced through the lobby, hiding behind corners and pillars, just keeping Saruman in sight. Legolas’s voice came tinny over the radio. “Ready at the back.”_ _

__Saruman got into the elevator, and Gimli ran for the stairs. “Elevators heading up. I’m taking the stairs.”_ _

__Around back, Legolas jumped atop his car, using it to get to the bottom rung of the back staircase, heading upwards. “I’ve got the fire escape,” he called._ _

__Gimli got to the second floor and saw Saruman’s elevator continue up. He paused for breath. “He’s on his way to three.”_ _

__Legolas looked in the window and saw Saruman continue further up. “He’s yours on four. On my way to five.”_ _

__“I’m gone,” Gimli said, and ran. Still, Saruman continued up. “He’s headed for the next floor.”_ _

__Legolas tried to clear a spot on the window. “Passing five,” he said when still Saruman’s elevator did not stop. “Looks like there is only a couple more stories.”_ _

__Gimli got to the sixth floor, panting, and saw Saruman go up yet again. “Remember how I said it was a toilet?”_ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__“Well, somebody up there’s flushing.”_ _

__“Past six,” Legolas said. “Seven’s the lucky number.”_ _

__Gimli hit the top of the stairs. “Seven, seven, come on seven.” The elevator door opened. “Oh, thank Mahal.”_ _

__Saruman knocked on the door across from the elevator. A deep voice called from the inside. “Who is it?”_ _

__“Saruman. let me in.”_ _

__The door opened just enough and Saruman walked in. “He’s inside,” Gimli said. “Where are you?”_ _

__“In position, Gimli,” Legolas said._ _

__Gimli stood next to the door and held his gun high. He banged his hand on the door. “Police! Open up!”_ _

__Immediately they started yelling in the room. “You lousy shyster creep! Get over there!” One of them opened the window, and Legolas called upwards. “Hold it! Police!” and fired. The gunman reared back into the room._ _

__It then got quiet, real quiet, and Gimli braced himself. Sure enough, a gun fired twice and a huge hole was blown into the door. Gimli ran across the hall and waited behind the corner._ _

__“Don’t shoot!” Saruman called. “Don’t shoot!” One of the gunmen had Saruman by the arm and was using him as a shield. He was thrown at Gimli, and they tumbled backwards down the stairs as the gunman fired once more. They made for the elevator and Gimli got to his feet, checking on Saruman. He left him, and called out to Legolas. “They’re in the elevator, heading down! Move!”_ _

__In the minutes it took to climb the stairs, it took half that time to get down, but still they had a head start and it was neck and neck. Gimli burst through into the lobby, but there were no gunmen. “They’re heading for the garage!”_ _

__“Gotcha,” Legolas called,and jumped down, landing on the roof of his car. He hopped into the driver’s seat and peeled out, heading down into the garage and pulled his car to the side just in time to pin Zane and Cannell in the elevator._ _

__Legolas climbed out of his car, keeping low, as they tried to climb over the vehicle. Gimli came tearing out of the starwell. “Get down!” he yelled, and began shooting at Zane and Cannell returned fire._ _

__The car behind them burst into flames and still the bullets flew until they got lucky, and the famed gunmen fell._ _

__Gimli got to them first and checked them out. He rolled Cannell over; he was still breathing and Gimli quickly cuffed him as Legolas took their weapons. Zane wasn’t going anywhere._ _

__***_ _

__The next day, Legolas and Gimli pulled up to Frankie’s gym in Arod._ _

__“Hey Frankie, what’s happening?” Gimli called to him._ _

__“What happened to the car?” Frankie asked._ _

__“Hey Frankie, don’t criticize,” Gimli said. He ran his hands over the dents caused by Legolas’s jump the night before. “Custom job like this takes hours. It ain’t cheep.”_ _

__“Neither is running a gym,” Frankie said. “Hey, Greenleaf?” Legolas looked up, and Frankie held out a piece of paper. “Here’s your bill.”_ _

__Gimli started laughing, and Legolas looked at him. “Pay the man,” he said, and turned back to futzing with his hubcap. Gimli stopped laughing._ _

__“Not again!” he cried._ _

__“I owe ya,” Legolas said, not turning from what he was doing. Gimli glared, but took the bill anyway. Some things never changed._ _

__“I don’t even belong to this gym!”_ _

__“Well, I’ll make it up to you, Gimli,” Legolas said. “I’ll take you to dinner.”_ _

__Gimli dug deep into his pocket and pulled out some cash. “Can’t afford it,” he said. “Besides, I can’t stand soybean steaks and wheat germ pies.”_ _

__“They’re good for you,” Frankie said. Gimli gave him a flat look, and Frankie went back inside._ _

__“Hey!” Gimli said. “I know this great chili place. The chili is so hot, it makes your ears smoke. You feel it going all the way down, that’s how you know it’s so good.” Legolas looked at him, flat faced, and tried to push something back into place on his hubcaps._ _

__“Sounds terrific,” Legolas said, unimpressed._ _

__“Well, look, it’s on Broadway and it’s kind of hard to find, so you’re going to have to follow me, dig?”_ _

__Legolas sighed. “Yeah, I’ll follow you,” he said._ _

__“Good,” Gimli said, jogging around to his car. He stopped, just in front of Legolas’s car. “Hey Legolas, you wouldn’t…”_ _

__“No, I’ll follow you, Gimli,” Legolas asserted. “Trust me, I’ll follow you.”_ _

__Gimli grinned and ran off. “You’re gonna love it!” He called, and jumped into his car. Gimli took off, and turned left just outside the parking lot. Legolas followed until the end, but in the end didn’t turn, and took the next right--back towards Legolas’s home._ _

__The Torino backed up real fast. “Hey man!” Gimli yelled. “Wait! Wait!”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Amad - mother  
> Bunmel - Beautiful (beauty of beauty *grace) 
> 
> both taken from Dwarven Scholar's dictionary. :)


End file.
